Bequeathal - Inheritance Cycle Book V
by Deaother 2.0
Summary: Ten years after the downfall of King Galbatorix, a new threat rises to engulf Alagaesia in its evil grasps. Forced to return, Eragon must work with two unlikely allies to restore balance, while Murtagh chases redemption and Arya struggles against a political opponent out for blood while tumultuous events threaten to drown their world into chaos.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue: Vengeance**_

 _There are a lot of lessons I have learnt in my lifetime, but none of them come even close to the one I learnt today._

"The Varden has entered the city, get into position!" Captain Bark shouted as all of us soldiers as we ran to our positions in and around the street, knowing that the rebels would be coming our way any time soon. The spearmen stood ready ahead of the rest of us, most of whom were swordsman. Behind these swordsman, I stood with an arrow nocked in my bow, one of the only few archers on the ground while the rest of my fellows took to the rooftops, watching the armies clash. The battle had been raging outside the city for quite a while, but they had a dragon and Rider who actually flew around and set people on fire, while the two we had on our side just sat in the castle, while we were slaughtered in droves.

It seemed to have taken forever for the war to come to Uru'baen, to the very capital of King Galbatorix's empire which was crumbling to pieces the way I saw it, but then again why would a king care about the way I saw it? Now here I stood with the rest of my unit, protecting this street because those were our orders. But unlike most of the time, I knew that these orders made sense, to all of us, we all knew what was at stake and it definitely wasn't the mad King's head. They were our own people we were protecting in the buildings and homes behind us, one of which was my own.

The waiting was growing old as all of us stood still and tensed, every man sweating under his armor of metal plates or chainmail, but I had it just as bad as the rest of them, my leather jerkin making it extremely hot and puffy on the inside. When I had been younger I always thought that war was pure instinct, a fight after another, after another. Nobody expects the waiting, the calm before the storm where nerves rise on edge and it's all you can do not to puke. The sounds of clashing swords and spears against steel and bone was coming ever closer, and I knew that it wasn't going to be long now. Little did I know that it was going to be so soon.

"Take cover!" Somebody yelled, I didn't care who, I just dived through the nearest window as a large barrage of arrows soared down upon my unit, the screams of soldiers renting the air as blood splattered the ground with arrowheads piercing limbs, chests and necks, but most of us had survived that attack thanks to the warning, though a few of them lay dead and were being dragged away by the others. Warriors lowered their shields as I clambered back out from the window, when suddenly…

"Helfire!" I cursed and jumped back in horror as a dead archer tumbled down from above, his eyes losing the light of life right before me. I gulped then and just left him there to lie, not knowing what to do, while others who had been wounded were being tended to. Captain Bark, which wasn't his real name but just what we all called him, threw me a disgusted look. I wondered what I had done to gain his disapproval now, but it would seem that it was going to be the last of my worries. Another thing I had not anticipated about war was the sheer amount of unexpectedness, anything could happen to anyone at any time which required us to stay on our toes even when there actually wasn't anything happening.

A sudden crash nearby jolted us all into attention as everyone suddenly raised their weapons. "Steady now." Bark said, holding his own sword at the ready. "I wonder what is to happen of us if you lot are going to remain so jumpy, now we are going to hold this position, no matter what-" He never finished his sentence and the rest of us first got looks of horror on our faces, then jumped to take cover. A single arrow, shot by an experienced marksman, had sailed through the air silently and embedded itself in my Captain's neck, the bloody arrow head poking out of the back on his head.

 _Little did I know that all it takes is one day for your world to fall apart. In one day, the war that seemed so far away is right in your home._

As Bark's body fell to the ground, everyone grew tensed as the one man who might've known what to do next was gone. I had no love for the man, he was ruthless and a little wild, but that did not mean I didn't feel a pang of grief for that brief moment, after which I didn't have time to think as the fight was coming to us. "Get ready, they are coming!" Someone shouted, and I hurriedly nocked another arrow in my bow. "Those people are depending on us, we have to hold this line." I looked over my shoulder then, down the street, where a lot of buildings had been locked off to the people outside, the doors and windows boarded up from the inside to stop people from coming in, just in case the soldiers failed. And then I turned back and I saw it, a group of rebels heading right our way. The spearmen, swordsmen all charged at our enemy, while I just pulled back at the string, taking a deep breath as my eyes found the target, and I relaxed just as my fingers left the bolt. I didn't need to see the arrow hit that man's head to know that it was going to meet its mark, so I moved on to the next, nocking the arrow in even before the last one hit, took aim with bated breath and fired again, and again, and again after which I stopped as both the forces met.

The soldiers were hacking and slicing at each other now, and it was a lot harder to tell them apart, but that wasn't a problem for long, because a minute later the archer on the roof to the left of the street was being attacked by a rebel who had also climbed up to the rooftops, which now took my attention. Arrow at the ready, breath held in my lungs, I was ready to take the shot to end that Varden fanatic's life, but something quite surprising happened.

"Die, servants of evil!" A bellow came from the side and a rebel soldier who had managed to get through all of my other comrades was coming right for me. Before I could take aim, he swung his sword and knocked my bow aside, but I kicked his shin and whacked his forehead with the wooden bow, splintering it to pieces as the man fell to the ground. I cursed then, looking at the broken bow, and tossed it to the ground, next to my unconscious victim, drawing two daggers from my belt and stood ready right in the middle of that road, I was going to kill whoever tried to get past me.

It was then that I noticed that the archer I had meant to save had fallen to the ground with blood soaking his clothes, which could only mean one thing. Not looking up, I dived to the side just as an arrow embedded the ground where I had been a moment before. I landed to the side of the road, and kicked in the door of the house that I knew was empty, and ran up the stairs to the roof, which I kicked open and found my would-be killer taking aim at another one of my comrades, while his friends slew mine on the other rooftops. I was going to have to take care of them. I was glad that these buildings were all of the same two storied level, unlike Tierm, otherwise my job would have become a lot harder.

The enemy archer saw me and immediately tried to shoot an arrow, but I got to him before he could let loose, slicing his throat apart in a swift move I kicked him off the roof and ran towards the next archer, who didn't see me coming and got a stab through back for it. I grabbed his bow and took two shots at the two archers on the opposite side of the street, taking them out as well. Down below, many of ours had been killed but that didn't mean that we were losing. In fact, most of theirs were already done, but my friends were going to need my help if they were to finish this. They might think of me as a mere archer, but only if they knew . . .

 _I was overconfident, thinking that what I could do would help me keep my family safe, but I was so used to being victorious that I did not realize that something things in this world are more powerful._

I leapt off the roof right into the fray, landing on a rebel and plunging my knife into his neck just as we fell to the ground. I jumped to me feet then and blocked a sword coming for my neck, sliced off the hand that held it with the other dagger, and swerved around, stabbing another in the neck, then piercing the handless man's heart, looked around to parry a spear with one knife and breaking its shaft with the other, kicking its wielder in the groin and severing his head as he doubled over in pain. I didn't stop moving and swung at another rebel, knocking his sword aside and embedding my blade in his skull, pulling it free just in time to parry another and stabbing the attacker in the gut. As he fell in a crumbling dead heap, I felt something else hit the ground, something a lot heavier because the earth trembled for that one moment of warning that I had, but the others didn't.

A huge axe swung my way, but I ducked, knowing it was coming even before it did because something that heavy could only be one thing and only someone as fast as I could have dodged it, but that wasn't quite enough. I looked up to see a nine foot tall Kull standing in front of me, hacking off the head of soldier who had been right behind me. But it wasn't that the urgal hadn't noticed me because in the next second he grabbed me by the neck and flung me across the street. As I flew, I was quite aware of another skull cracking in the very next second, but before I knew it I smashed through the wooden walls and landed in the living room of an empty house. Something like that would have been enough to kill any normal man, but I never said I was normal, something the Kull would soon realize.

My back ached with immeasurable pain, but that didn't stop me from getting to my feet and taking a few breaths as the pain slowly reduced and ebbed away. Outside, the remaining men of my unit were being slaughtered by the Kull, who seemed to be last of the rebel battalion that had come this way or had ended up here from some other fight, I didn't care anymore because I was going to go out there kill the horned beast. I made a promise to keep those people safe, my family was there, my sister and her children that I lived with were praying to be kept safe from the rebels and that was exactly what I was going to ensure. This kull was not going to get past me.

There he stood before me, an enormous axe in his hands as he bashed my friends around, tossed them to the air or cleaved them in half. Only two of my unit remained, but even before I could think of doing anything the kull jumped forward with his head bent, piercing the man right in the chest with his horns and hurled him around. The man smashed into the second story of a shop, from where he fell to the ground but didn't move. Meanwhile, the Kull had knocked the other's weapon off his arms and was watching man tried to run away from him, towards me.

In the next instant the very same axe came flying at him, skewering him right before my eyes. The soldier stared at me, his eyes betraying his despair as he felt the cold rush of death grasp at him. I did not know the man, but I knew he believed me to be doomed, and if he were to watch me from the Void then he would soon realize that he had thought wrong, though I understood why he felt so. I was the only one that remained, to guard the people in those homes and I was going to keep fighting till somebody claimed my life. Flashes of my family come before my eyes, knowing that my sister and her children were among the ones who had taken refuge there, believing that we would keep them safe no matter the cost, and I didn't intend on letting any one of them down. It didn't matter that I was alone because I was certain that I would be enough. The kull watched as I walked towards him, and he drew a sword from the scabbard on his belt. He probably thought I was just a mere man that he could crush the way he had crushed so many others today. He was going to learn just how wrong he was because today will be the day he heads for the Void.

The kull charged at me just as I ran towards him, the daggers glistening scarlet in my hands, thirsty for blood the way that they always were. As the adrenaline rushed through my veins and my heartbeat quickened, the very bloodlust that I had kept under control all these years returned. That good old feeling . . . how I missed it.

The kull jumped forward and sliced his sword at me, to no avail as I slid under it and slashed his shin, then jumped to my feet to block the huge blade with both of my own. The kull tried to force me down, but he underestimated my strength, believing it to be as much as any other man's, but I did not falter under the weight; instead deflected it to the left and bashed him in the face with my elbow, swinging a dagger his neck with the other hand. He moved his head at the last second and my dagger embedded itself in his horn, making him yell in pain and yank the hilt out of my hand as he moved away hurriedly. I wasn't done though and I went after him, tossing the only dagger I had from my left hand to the right and leapt at him, but he deflected the thrust that was going for his neck and I landed in front of him. Before he could do more, I ducked and swung around, leg outstretched, knocking him off his feet.

As he fell to the ground with a loud _thud_ I jumped on top and swung my dagger down. He was too slow to stop it, I knew it; there was no way that he was going to get out of this alive. His life was mine and I was claiming it for my unit, my family and the others that I had sworn to protect. But unbeknownst to me, a whisper in the air foretold the coming of a silver arrow as it sailed right for its mark as my blade descended towards the urgal's neck. Just a moment before the blade drew blood, the arrow came flying at me and struck the blade right off my hand, much to the urgal's surprise as mine. A moment later I grabbed the blade stuck in his horn and yanked it out while the kull grabbed me by the folds of my now torn jacket.

Painful screams rent the air then as one swift strike later the kull's arm wasn't a part of his body anymore. Another strike later the screams were replaced by gurgling and choking as I sliced his throat apart and hurriedly ran to cover as more arrows came for me, one grazing my shoulder and tearing off the leather. I hid behind a barrel under a house and carefully peeked out to see something that I had not expected. An elf in glistening armor stood on one of the rooftops, aiming right at me. I knew that chances of survival had just dropped for me, but a realization slowly dawned on me. Elves would not prey on my family and friends, they would keep them safe from harm.

That thought didn't stick for long as I hurriedly hid again as an arrow sailed past, exactly where my head had been a moment before. I knew that this barrel wasn't going to do much and that I would have to defeat this elf, which was going to be tremendously harder than the kull I just killed. If there was anything I knew about elves, it's that they are prideful but earning their respect takes nothing more than a fluency in the Ancient Language, which they assume with astute rightness that most humans do not know. Then again, as I have said so many times, I am no mere human.

 _I should've seen it coming, but I did not. I should've thought things through and got my family out when I had the chance, but I did not, and I will regret that for the rest of my life, however short lived it is._

"Will you not fight me fairly?" I shouted out in the language-of-no-lies. "Will you not come down here and fight me, or is it cowardice that keeps you from doing so?"

It was all that I needed to say, because the next moment I peeked out, the elf had come down, his bow thrown aside and his quiver dropped to the ground. I came out of cover then and picked up my other dagger, twirling them both in both my arms. I was ready for this fight, but whether I would be victorious or not, I did not know. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure of being able to defend this neighborhood for too long. Defeating one elf was going to be a next to impossible task, but if more were on their way then I was as sure as dead. But that didn't matter when my eyes met the elf's, who took off the helmet on his head and tossed it aside, then held his sword in both his hands and moved slowly to the right, as did I, focusing my attention on my opponent and wondering if I should wait or make a move.

A sliver of light as his sword swung at me even faster than I had anticipated, grazing my shoulder as I barely managed to move away. My heightened speed didn't make me faster than him, but I dearly hoped it made me as fast as him. He charged after me then, swinging his sword at me with ease as if it were as light as a feather and it was all I could do to keep myself from getting killed as I dodged and parried and blocked all his attacks at lightning speed, each and every blow bruising my arm more and more as his strikes knocked me from side to side. By the end of it he had me down on one knee, barely able to block a blow with both my daggers, all three blades coming to a standstill between us as the elf glared at me. He was surprised that I was able to keep up with him, must have hurt his pride that I, a mere mortal, could stand up to him for so long. It was time to hurt it a little more.

Pushing his sword to the side I quickly rolled away, getting to my feet and keeping a little distance between us as he flourished his sword from side to side. He was waiting for me to attack, his earlier confidence lost knowing that he wasn't going to win this by just hammering his sword away at me like he must have done countless other men. "Do you honestly think that you can last a lot longer? What happens when the rest of the Varden and my comrades arrive here?"

"I guess I will figure it out then, won't I?" I replied, but he had voiced the very concerns that had been floating in my mind just moments ago.

"No, you won't." The elf replied as we circled each other. "My sword is going to-"

He never had the chance to finish his sentence as I ran towards him and leapt, bring my dagger down with all my strength. He deflected the attack with one hand, but my other blade sliced at him, scratching his plated armor. He swung his sword at me and while I ducked and jabbed back, his blade sailing just an inch above my head. My dagger dented his chest plate a heartbeat after which I swerved around and stabbed at his exposed armpit, but he knocked my blow aside, punching my face and sending me flying down the road. Lights popped up before me as I landed several yards away, and then things just got brighter and wilder.

 _Some things you cannot predict._

A barrage of fiery boulders was let loose by the siege engines while I flew through the air. I saw them descending upon the city as I landed on the ground, and the elf looked up to see the rain of fire coming for us. His face went from the look of confidence that he earlier had to a lack thereof as he hurriedly ran to take cover from the incoming assault while I struggled to get to my feet and ran to cut him off. Before he could get inside a house I bashed my fist into his chin, making him stumble to the side as I whacked him again, pushing him back. As I did, I pulled a small knife from my belt and stabbed his thigh with it, drawing blood as the elf screamed in pain. "Foolish human!" He shouted as he blocked my next blow then grabbed my hand and whirled me away from him.

Landing painfully again, I stayed there and watched in glorious triumph as a boulder smashed into the house behind the elf, the fiery rocks spreading everywhere. The elf tried to move away, but the knife sticking out from his leg slowed him down, just as I had intended. The smoldering rocks set him ablaze, burning his hair and face as he fell to the ground, writhing with burns all over his body.

 _Some things you cannot stop._

As the rain of fire continued, a feeling of dread came over me as I suddenly realized that the houses down the street were filled with my friends and family were going to be dead if I didn't get up and hurry. There was still time, I was fast and perhaps I could make it and get them out. There was still a chance, I knew it, there had to be a chance. Boulders continued to smash around me, the barely lit street now ablaze with fiery light as the buildings caught fire or were smashed apart.

"No…" I whispered in horror as I reached the end of the street and saw the devastation that the Varden had wrought. I fell to my knees as tears formed in my eyes, watching the homes that my family and friends had taken refuge in were either torn down or were being burned to ashes. The sound of people I knew screaming for their lives, children crying loudly as everything crumpled around them, burying them in the very same homes they were led to believe would keep them safe. There was nothing I could do to help any of them, nothing but lament as one by one, the fire and stone claimed everything that I had held near and dear to me. "No!" I cried in agony as my house crumbled to the ground, the entire neighbourhood engulfed in flames and there was nothing I could do to stop it, nothing I could do to save the ones I loved.

 _Nothing I could do anymore._

As I fell forward on my hands and knees, something else exploded to the side, the fire from the blast singing my hair and throwing me into the air, flinging me into something hard and strong, knocking the wind out of my chest. I slowly crumpled to the ground, beaten and lost as my sight darkened slowly. Even as the darkness drew closer and closer I could see, with every waking moment, more boulders falling from the sky and overlooking it all was the castle of Uru'baen, watching over the city that was being taken over by rebels, urgals and elves. But yet some hope remained for its people as long as that castle stood.

A moment later a huge explosion rocked the entire city, and what hope I had left was blown away with it as I beheld the castle exploding in a bright blaze while dragons roared from within as the earth tremoring blast took away all my will to fight. It was the last thing I saw or heard before the darkness took over and I knew no more.

I don't know how long I was unconscious, but it was several hours because when I came to, the fighting had stopped. Rubble and wood was piled everywhere, and I was stuck under quite a lot of it. I lay there for some more time, still quite unable to believe what had happened. My home was before me, utterly destroyed. There was no way anyone had survived that and for a long time after I just lay there, crying and mourning, grief taking over me, not letting me move, not letting me do anything except weep.

But eventually it was time, and a lot of struggle later I crawled my way out of the debris and looked around. In the distance, the buffeting of wings could be heard, drawing ever closer as I ran to my home, looking for a chance, searching for anything that could point to my sister and her children being alive, but there was nothing. The beating of wings had come ever closer when I finally roared in rage, standing in the ruined living room of my house, which was when I saw it, right there above me, the very reason for my torment.

There they were, the dragon and Rider that had brought about this whole revolution. The ones who fueled the hopes and aspirations of these rebels and had brought them to my home. Had they not existed I would have continued my own meager existence for years and years to come, without having to worry about having to fight in a war, losing loved ones and having nothing more to lose, which brought me back right to the very same place that I had been in before I had come to live with my sister.

"It is your fault, Rider . . ." I muttered to myself, knowing that the man flying high above me couldn't hear a word. "A day will come when I will make you regret the destruction that you have wrought upon me." I looked up to see the fated heroes flying away and I knew that this won't be the last time that I saw them.

 _Vengeance will be mine, Eragon._


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1: Roots**_

"Almost all believe that once death takes us, there is no way to return. They believe that once the Gates of the Void are shut, they are never to be opened for them again."

A landscape with slowly receding mist was overlooked by a cliff as high as the clouds themselves, its green grass flattened in the strong winds as sunlight glistened off the silver clouds swiftly moving past. The cliff lay just below the peak of an immense, extremely tall mountain, which despite its height did not bear any snow. The greenery of the cliff was a stark contrast to the grey stone that formed the mountain.

"But I stand here to tell you, there is a way. A way to return to the land of the living."

As the clouds rolled by a path was revealed, heading up to the cliff from what could only be the base of the mountain. An extremely perilous journey that not many had undertaken as the pain of the climb was far too great a cost. The danger of death did not seem to bother anyone though.

"This discovery came at a great cost, but it does exist, which is why I have brought you here."

As the fog gave way, four men were revealed, standing near the edge and facing each other. They all wore dark robes of different shades, and they all stood tall. The man who spoke stood the closest to the edge, he was dark skinned, extremely well built, tall and powerful. But he was also dead, and now he stood in the Void, where all others like him dwelled, repenting their crimes, or reaping the joys of their lives as they watched their loved ones live their own.

The other three were fairer and their gaze followed the man's as he watched the clouds pass and smiled. "The Top of the Void, indeed." He muttered to himself. He was named Karzul, once a feared marauder and bandit, even an adventurer but now he was just another inhabitant of the void.

Karzul had his hands in his pockets as he reached the edge of the cliff and looked down, giving out a low whistle, while two of the others shared uneasy looks. It was a long way down, and if he weren't already dead, he would have been a bit unnerved. But he stood fearless, for a dead person could not die twice . . . or so he believed.

But he turned then and smiled, holding out his hands, when one of the three began to speak. "Karzul, we are here as you asked. Now what is it that you wish to discuss? And here-?"

"Welcome, all of you, to what I believe to be the Top of the Void." The man, Karzul, spoke and nodded at them as they stood in front of him. The one in the center stood taller than them all, and was extremely broad shouldered. A hulk of man, and he stared at Karzul with dark eyes, who said. "I am glad that you all made it." He walked closer to them, as they did the same.

"Tell us why you wanted to meet us here." Another one of them asked.

"In time, Faulder, in time. For you to understand, I must explain from the very beginning, but let me ask you first . . . are all three of you just as itchy to get out of the Void as I am?" Karzul asked them.

They all agreed, although unwillingly, but Karzul just stared at each of them, then said. "Well then, I have a way out . . ."

"Please continue." The third man said.

"No . . . I do not think it is time for any of us to leave . . . there are no wars, there is peace in that land." The tallest among them, the one in the center, a man only known as the mad king, spoke the words.

Karzul raised his eyebrows, "Haven't you softened up in here . . . but I suppose so many years can do that, can it not?"

"Your opinion matters not, Karzul, I shall leave when I feel I am ready . . . and I suggest that you wait as well." The mad king said, then turned and strode away. "This is not natural, it is against the laws of the living and the dead."

"Enough with the speech, we all know you have your own way out, do you not?" Karzul shouted as the king began down the path. "All you need is one touch."

The mad king stopped then, and turned, his face sinister. "If you do return, and if you try to ruin Alagaesia, my home, I shall follow and make sure that you are killed."

"You have definitely softened up, why else would you put me back from where I could easily escape, again?" Karzul asked, smirking. "Now be gone with you . . ."

He turned to the other two as the king walked back down the path. "We do not need him, the three of us are enough . . ."

"So, how do you know all this?" Faulder asked. "How did you find the gate?"

"Well . . . it all begins nearly fifty years ago." Karzul said. "Fifty years ago, I found a gate, or rather a bridge which connected the Void to the land of the living." He waited for the new information to sink in. Their response was immediate.

"I have never heard of any such gate." The second man, Woldan, said. Faulder crossed his arms and stared at Karzul with sharp eyes.

"I am not surprised; it is in a very remote corner of Alagaesia . . . accessible only by tunnel or air." He nodded at them. "I found this gate, but I was . . . stopped. And I ended up here by the other, common route."

"You were killed." Faulder said with a smirk.

"Yes," Karzul walked closer to them. "The Void has its advantages, of course. You both know, it is said you must keep your friends close," He stopped and raised his hand. When he did, a large bubble blazed into existence on his palm. In it, there stood a man, a very old one, in a red cloak. It was the way the dwellers of the Void watched their loved ones, or in this case, the ones they wanted to see. "And you must keep your enemies closer." He raised his palm again, and another bubble appeared. In it, a hooded man was disembarking a small boat and trotting on the shores of what seemed like an island.

Karzul pointed at the first bubble. "He is my ally, who was there when I was killed." He then pointed at the second bubble. "This is the man who killed me. Now, this is how I know what is going to happen. I have watched this man for a long time."

"Do share, we have nothing but time." Woldan told him.

"Just before I was killed I managed to open the gate by a small slit, a crack. But something that I had not anticipated took place, there was a blast of some form of energy, and it affected everyone in the room . . . It wiped out my killer's memory completely, or so I believe." Karzul said.

"After fifty years of searching, he has finally begun a quest of sorts to regain his life. It seems he also gained immortality in that blast along with some unusual powers. But now, he searches for all the answers , and his journey will lead him to . . ." Karzul brought the image of his ally closer as well. "To my ally, who is not powerful enough to withstand him so he will do what I did so long ago, he will open the gate for us in the hopes that we will save him."

"How do you know this?" Faulder asked him.

"We were all friends once . . . when he does open the gate, we will be there, and we will return to the land of the living." Karzul told them, and smiled, clapping his hands together in conclusion.

"Wait, so we will return as ourselves, flesh and bone?" Woldan said, coming closer.

"And where is this gate? In the Void I mean." Faulder added.

"Well, Woldan, we will not return as flesh and bone, we will return as spirits. We will have to take over some living person's body. In my opinion, my killer is best suited because he is extremely powerful, and together we can make him all more dangerous." Karzul answered.

"So we will be turning him into a Shade." Woldan surmised.

"Yes . . . And Faulder, the gate is there." Karzul pointed at the mountainside right behind them.

Faulder and Woldan both turned and stared at the flat stone, then turned back to him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, for I looked through the crack before I . . . died, and this cliff is exactly what I saw." Karzul told them. "Worry not, I am certain that this will work and when it does, I have a much bigger, in which we all have our own roles to play."

"And what is that?" Woldan said.

"In time, my friend, but it is something that both of you will enjoy . . . a lot." Karzul smiled. "Now, let us watch as the events unfold."

A maddening obsession, that's what life had become for a man as he struggled on against the wilderness of the hills of Vroengard, coming closer and closer to the ruins of the old, once great city of the Dragon Riders. He had spent almost eight hours on the island, and had nearly got lost in the forests twice. But now it was night time, he was on the right track, and as soon as the moss covered wreckage of the buildings came into view, he smiled to himself for the first time in days, relieved that he had finally finished the first step of a long journey that he had had undertaken.

He freed himself from the tangles of the trees and the bushes, and walked ahead, slowly. He was at the southwest part of the city, where the buildings were not as large as the ones near the lake, to the left, visible with its clear, stark reflection of the moonlight. The man kept moving, adjusting the scepter which was on his back, as he entered the city through a wide hole in its walls, which were also crumbling away, covered with moss. Once inside, he stopped and took in his surroundings. He was on a road, or what he felt was a road as there were ruined structures of buildings on either sides and a path went on ahead, and then turned right.

The buildings were a lot smaller than he had expected, but he guessed that these were the guest homes, or where the new Riders slept, or perhaps barracks for the guards who had helped the Riders protect the city. He shook his head then, and continued to walk ahead, with longer strides as he realized there was nothing to be done there. He was wrong.

A twig snapped, wind rushed, footsteps soft on the ground echoed in the alleys as the man stopped again, the tip of his hood swaying in the breeze. He sniffed, but kept listening as the low, rhythmic beating of wings above, an arrow being knocked in a bow, and a sword being drawn from its sheath were the sounds that reached his extremely keen ears. He stood silent until-

"Stop!" A monk barked, and the hooded man looked up to see him standing in front of him with a sword pointed at him. This monk wore light leather armor over his robes, and had a scar across his face. The man began to reach for his scepter, but the monk stiffened and yelled, "Don't even think of it! There are three men with their bows pointed at you as we speak."

The man stopped then, and looked around once more. There were two archers right behind him, and a third on the roof of a single floored crumbled structure to the right. All of them wore dark blue robes, but no armor.

"Who are you? What do you want from us? You have been on our island for almost half a day." The monk told him.

"I am a man on a quest, and I seek answers from your master." He replied, staring at the monk. "And I see you have been watching me, why show yourself now?"

At that precise moment, two dark figures flew out of the dark above and landed on either sides of the monk, and the man raised his eyebrows at them. "Sundavrblaka? So that's how you keep an eye on intruders?" He had not seen them before, but he knew what they were, having read and researched extensively before arriving at the island.

The creatures chattered at each other, their yellow beaks moving swiftly as their white, slit like eyes kept staring at him. He wasn't surprised he had not noticed them, if not for their eyes, they were impossible to detect in the darkness. The man just stared at them for a while, then turned to the monk. "I must meet your master, I know of your agendas, and your master is the only one who can answer my questions."

The monk raised his sword once more. "It cannot happen, we only share with our own." The monk replied. "Now, leave this place lest we kill you first."

The man was silent, then looked at the two archers behind him. He was aware of the third on the rooftop, he knew what he had to do next, and he flexed his fingers, preparing to do what was necessary. "You stand in the way of Paradise." He said in a low voice, and staring down as he flexed his fingers again. "And Paradise shall come, but you." He looked up, boring his eyes into the eyes of the monk. "You shall not be a part of it." He swerved around then, and raised both his hands, palms pointed at both the archers.

In a loud burst of wind, both of them caught fire and were blasted of their feet, as the man drew his scepter and knocked a shadow-flapper aside, then engaged the second one. An arrow missed him and embedded in the walls of the ruin next to them, as he knocked the wraith's arm aside, and before it could react, he ran his scepter right through its chest and held the shaft up, letting its body sink down and horrid, green blood trailed down the weapon. And just in time, as another arrow embedded in the body which had shielded him.

The man pulled his scepter down in a powerful thrust, and the body of the wraith smashed against the monk, who was charging at him with a sword drawn. The monk fell to the ground as the hooded man ran forward, and jumped as he threw the scepter at the third archer. It ran through his neck, and he choked for a heartbeat, before falling off the roof.

The hooded man then turned as the monk attacked him, green blood coating his leather armor, and slashed at the man. He dodged to the left, and ducked as the monk swerved around, then as he again tried to hack at the man's head, he grabbed the monk's wrist to stop him in mid swing. Then, he grabbed the sword's pommel with his other hand, and the monk screamed as the sword's handle heated up. He dropped the sword, and the man punched his face, making him fall to the ground.

But the remaining shadow flapper flew at him, and before the man could stop it, the wraith grabbed him by the collar and took him along for the flight. In the next moment, it smashed him against the walls of the very building where the archer had been. The man kneed it in the gut, but the wraith smashed its fist, which had six fingers, against the man's face, holding him against the wall with its other hand. The man gasped, as he was punched again, then raised his hand and grabbed the fist as it came for him again. But the sundavrblaka grabbed his waist with his legs, pressing it against the wall, as it punched him with its other hand as well.

The man grabbed its other hand with his own, and smashed his forehead onto the wraiths, and while it shrieked, he let go off its hand, reached back and drew a dagger, then sliced open its chest. It squealed and screamed, but the man reached forward, as if to embrace it, and jabbed the dagger into its neck. The shadow flapper did not shriek any longer, and they both fell to the ground, ten feet below with a loud thump. The man rolled to the side then, and got to his feet, sheathing the dagger. He retrieved his scepter, and turned to the monk, who stood ready for him. The monk charged, sword ready and jabbed at him, but the man knocked his blow aside with the scepter, and twirling around, he smashed the blunt end into his opponent's face. The monk growled and slashed, the man blocked, he thrust, but the man parried the blow, then ducked and swung around with the scepter held at its full length. He knocked the man monk's feet off the ground, and he dropped his sword as he yelled in surprise and fell.

The man then embedded his scepter into the ground, and grabbed the man by the neck, and also held his right hand. "Now I shall ask, and you shall answer, where is your master?"

"I shall never . . . Aah!" He screamed as his right hand was given a horrible burn.

"Your eyes will be next." The man said, and placed two fingers above his eyes, which he stared at with utmost horror.

"Alright, alright, fine, I'll tell you!" He yelled. "To the northeast of the city, a tower which we rebuilt, the only one with lights on." He said, and snatched his hand away as the man stood up. He turned northeast, and smiled slightly.

"Will you let me go?" The monk asked.

The man laughed then, and pointed his palm at the monk. "No, please, no!" He screamed, but the man just sneered as a blast of bright light lit the surroundings.

The waves were extremely turbulent, and a lonely voyager stood on a small ship which he commandeered alone, a bright red cloak on his shoulders. A sail pulled the ship forward with the wind, heading for the island of Vroengard. The man on board stared at the extremely close island, and breathed a sigh. "Doru Araeba, it has been too long since my eyes last greeted your sight."

He remembered his past in the land of the dragon Riders, and looked at his own palm, which he usually kept clenched out of habit. There, right in the center, was the silver Gedwëy Ignasia. He curled his fingers and turned away, as dark and painful memories began to rush to him.

His red cloaked fluttered behind him as he turned then and reached into a chest, pulling out an extremely thick, old and tattered book. It was another habit of his, a paranoia which forced him to check on it almost every few hours. The book, which he had been forced to bind with magic to keep it from falling apart was the last source of information and evidence that he had, where he had brought all his findings, listed all the possibilities, drawn all the maps. Now, he had the final result hidden away in one of the pages of the book, and he hoped to go through with an idea which had become an obsession that now ruled his life.

He turned the sail, aiming left as he headed for the northeastern part of the island. It was the fastest way to the coast, and to the city. As the minutes wore on, and he drew closer and closer to the city, an air of extreme disdain clouded his mind as he slowly began to realize that something was wrong. There were no dragons on the island. Had there been any dragons, they would have flown out to greet him or at least find out who he was, by now. And the closer he came to the island, the more evident was its desolation. The old lighthouse, which used to house the largest and brightest fire in Alagaesia, now lay in ruins, and he was glad he had been able to make his way to the island on pure memory.

As his small ship sailed closer to the island, he saw bones in the moonlight, massive bones, and noticed the largest of them all. "Belgabad!" he exclaimed in extreme surprise and trepidation, and closed his eyes. "No!" He yelled. But it was true, and he could not deny it. Something terrible had happened to Alagaesia, and he had been too far to be a part of it.

This means that Sofya is-is dead? No! And Arengur, Tremur, all of them? He slowly sank to his knees as more of the island came in sight, the port coming ever closer to the ship. This was not right, this was not what he expected to return to. His old life had been reduced to just memories, as the anchor which had held him in place had all but vanished.

He felt lost, helpless, what he had just witnessed was too much for him. No matter what he did, he could not wrap his mind around the fact that his old companions were all dead, and that he might just be the last dragon Rider in the whole world.

No! Some might have survived, some might still be alive. He told himself, but buried his face in his palms, his cloak wrapped around him. I can't believe this.

The ship was at the port of Vroengard, and he stood up then, mustering his courage. He had to find out what had happened, he needed answers. Surely there was someone on the island who could help him. But as far as he looked, he saw no living creature in sight. He sighed, then leapt off the stern of the boat and landed on the wooden platform. The wood swayed under him, and he turned to the path that would lead him to the city.

"I am here to see your master." The hooded man said as soon as the door to the tower had opened. Within was a corridor with doors on either side. A young man wearing dark blue robes had opened the door, and stared at him with a little surprise. "I assure you, he is expecting me."

He stared at him for a moment, then relented, letting him in. "This way." They walked down a corridor lined with doors to different rooms on either sides, and turned right at its end, heading up a spiral of stairs. From what he had seen so far, there could be around twenty or so men in that outpost. He smiled, this could be easy enough.

He followed the young apprentice up the stairs to the very top, where the apprentice knocked the door thrice, and entered. "Master?"

"What is it?" A voice said from inside.

"There is a man here to see you." The apprentice said, but the hooded man just walked past him.

"Thank you, you may go now." He said, and slowly pushed the apprentice out, closing the door.

He was in a circular room, the highest room in the whole tower. In its center was a table, and to the sides were shelves and shelves of books with few windows in between, but that was all there was to it, other than the Master himself, who eyed the intruder with a raised eyebrow. He sat behind his table, reading a voluminous book. "Who are you?"

"You have been expecting me." The intruder said, smiling as he walked closer to the table.

"No, I have not. I do not expect anyone, now, what is it that you want?" The Master asked, looking up at him. A pair of old eyes stared at the intruder, wrinkles of a dying man.

"I seek answers." The intruder replied.

"Do you not know? We share with none but our own." The Master said.

"Have your scouts reported me as an enemy?" The man asked.

"No, they've reported nothing about you." The Master answered.

"Well, I made it till here without detection. I think I deserve some credit, would you not agree?" The intruder sneered.

The Master stopped what he was doing and stared at the intruder, bringing his fingertips close to each other to form a dome as he gazed into the intruder's eyes. After a long moment of pause, "Very well, I can make an exception this once. What are your questions?"

"I am looking for the Gateway, I need to know its location and how I can get to it." The man answered.

"What Gateway? There are thousands of gateways, I shall need more details." The Master said, getting to his feet.

"The Gateway that leads to the Void." The intruder answered, and stood straight, looking right at the Master.

"And what makes you think I will reveal its location to you?" The Master said.

"I am in charge on protecting it now, since my brother died last week. I received the message just a few days ago." The intruder lied.

Again there was silence as the two men surveyed each other, but then. "It won't be easy to get there, for you cannot fly. It is a tunnel between Dalgon and Galfni that will lead you there, but the dwarves will not let you through unless one of their own accompanies you."

"There are many tunnels, and now I shall need a-" He was cut off when the door was thrown open suddenly. Three monks entered, swords drawn, and stood ready to charge when they saw the intruder.

"Master, get away from him, he killed Orfthang and his entire unit!" One of them shouted.

The fun begins. The intruder thought, and swerved around, drawing his scepter.

The Master drew his sword and charged at him, but the intruder deflected his blow, and stabbed the old man's knee. The Master screamed with pain, but the intruder pulled the scepter out, grabbed him by the chest and threw him onto the table. Then, he turned and parried a blow from one of the monks, and knocked him back. Pulling his scepter back, he pointed his palm at all of them.

They all screamed as they were thrown back. They smashed against the bookshelves, and fell to the floor, and with a flick of his hand, the intruder set them all on fire.

"Now, answer me, which tunnel?" He said, turning to the Master. He looked down then, saw a book had fallen out of the old man's pockets, who was clearly in shock. He picked up the book and placed it in his pocket, then grabbed the Master by his neck. "Answer me!"

"I-I-I . . . I do not-" The Master stammered.

"You think I play games? Answer me!" He shouted. The old man just stammered.

The door was thrown open by seven more monks who entered, three with their bows drawn. The intruder turned to the old man, "Watch this, it's what happens when I am furious." He dropped the old man to the table, and faced the seven men. "If any of you survive this, then the Gods must love you!" The intruder yelled, and pulled his arms close to him as the men charged at him.

Then, he screamed loud, extremely loud as he forced his power, and energy forward.

The Rider stood near the lake, staring at it in despair as he beheld the ruins of his home. He sank to his knees slowly, staring at the Grand Hall. I am sorry, Holduin. You were right, we should never have left. If only I could-

There was an explosion to the side, making him jump. To the northeast, half of the top of a tower had been blasted apart, and what remained had caught fire. The Rider gasped, itching his neck, something he had been doing for quite some time now. I am not alone here, but what in the name of Palancar, was that? He sprinted towards the tower, his cloak billowing.

The intruder laughed as not even the corpse of any of those monks remained. He held his arms out with pure joy for a moment, then slowly turned to the Master, who was staring at him, terrified. The intruder walked up to him, grabbed him by the neck, lifted him with a single hand and smashed him back onto the table, breaking it completely. The old man fell to the ground, crying out in pain.

"Which tunnel? How do I find it?" The intruder asked him. "I can reduce you to ashes, and not give a speck of dirt on my boot about it."

"I . . . d-do not . . . know." The old man answered.

"Well then, I suppose I shall have to find another way." He began to look around when he saw something interesting. "Oh, what is this?" The man noticed that a map had fallen out of a drawer of the now broken table. He grabbed it, and sneered as he unfurled it. "A map, and it has locations of what? All the sites of wild magic? Secret cults and their headquarters?"

"No . . . no, y-y-you do no-"

"Silence." The intruder shouted, and looked at the Beor mountains in the map. "So . . . you have also marked the Gateway, or is it called Grind Eom Du Andlat? Pretty long . . . well, I have what I came for, as the Arcaena Order promised." He said. The old man was not even listening, he just lay on his back, eyes closed.

"I shall not kill you, for you are almost at Death's door." The intruder said, then walked away.

The Rider hurried up the path to the tower, only to find half a dozen men and women running towards him. "Are you alright? Is there anyone else there?" He shouted at them.

All of them wore blue robes, and they noticed him only when they heard him. As soon as they did, they had drawn their weapons, and one of them yelled, "Look his face, and his arm! Lesions! He is an outsider, just like the other one, kill him!"

"What? No! I am here to help!" The Rider replied as they charged at him. But, his senses and reflexes jumped into action as he drew his sword, Arget Datia, and prepared for the fight. If they were not going to take his help, and were going to fight him instead, he was not going to disappoint them.

"You think you can come to our home, destroy it and get away?" One of them said, pointing a claymore at the Rider.

"Look, I do not know what happened, and I just came to help. This is all a coincidence!" The Rider shouted at them.

"Kill him, before the other one kills us!" A woman said.

"The other one?" The Rider asked.

But before he got an answer, three of them were set on fire abruptly, all of a sudden, two more were blasted off the ground and landed nearly ten feet away. And last one was dead when the Rider turned to him, with a scepter sticking out of his chest. "What?" He turned around, sword ready.

"Put that down. They were going to kill you, I just saved your life."

The Rider turned and saw the 'other one', a hooded stranger walking towards him. "No, you saved three of them from a very, very painful death." The Rider answered. "Who are you?"

"I shall answer once you put your blade back where it belongs." The man answered. As the Rider sheathed his sword, then raised his hand to scratch his neck again, the man grabbed it, staring at the palm. "A Gedwëy Ignasia?" The man raised an eyebrow. "I suppose Galbatorix missed you somehow."

"What do you mean? What did Galbatorix do?" The Rider asked immediately.

"First things first, there is a poison in the air here, which is why you are getting those lesions. I have a spell to protect you from its, its wordings are thus." The Rider copied the man word to word, and nodded when he was done.

"My thanks." The Rider said, then held out a hand. "I am Brendon Kinsaver, Rider of Halduin."

"Tenga, that's my name." The hooded man said, shaking his hand. "Do you have a boat or a ship?"

"Yes, a small ship." Brendon replied.

"Well then, I shall tell you what happened here on the way to the mainland." Tenga said, but Brendon did not seem convinced. It was obvious he wished to stay longer. "There is nothing here, Brendon, only ruins and questions." Tenga told him.

Brendon took a look around, then eyed Tenga suspiciously for a moment before saying. "Very well, my ship's a little away."

"Well then, on the way, do tell me where you have been for the last hundred or so years." Tenga said, as they both strode down the path.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: The Bounty Hunter**_

A streak of red in the sky as the setting sun's light managed to break through dark clouds, thunder roaring loudly as lightning flashed over the city of Therinsford, plagued by bandits and marauders and left in the dark by the Kingdom once again. The city had suffered under Galbatorix, crime ran rampant as the city was ransacked several times, a trail of dead loved ones was left behind by the thugs or urgals as they passed through the city, looting and robbing incessantly. Despite it all the city had recovered and rebuilt, its citizens still hopeful that a day will come when they will be safe.

In the center of the city, outside the inn, stood a man staring up at the flash of red light, a small smile forming on his face as the rain poured around him, his long black coat soaked and glistening, much like his dark hair. In the background, he could hear the people of the city drowning their troubles away a bottle at a time inside the inn behind him, the smell of weed burning in pipes from a group standing in the background. He was here with a task, he had someone to find, a man who believed himself to be above the rules of the society and had a complete disregard for his fellow inhabitants of the city.

Inside the inn, the innkeeper poured the usual mug of ale for his regular trouble maker who had gone a step too far, Courwin, who sat staring at the bar with eyes red and brown hair unsettled, staring at the wenches walking around with mugs and food on trays that they held at shoulder height. Grabbing the ale, he headed for one of them, proposing a toast to her good health when he caught up to her. She blew him off and returned to serving the food to the others, while Courwin drained his mug and returned to the bar and ordered another.

In a dark corner, a stranger sat and watched Courwin quietly, a black coat hanging on his chair. He accepted the bottle of rum from the innkeeper, who served him the bottle himself and several hushed words were exchanged as they both eyed Courwin for a moment, then the keeper returned to the bar as one of the girls served him food. Pouring himself a drink, he resolved to wait. As the hours passed by, he was done with almost half the bottle, and Courwin had several more mugs and some more attempts at a few other girls who were getting more and more attractive after every mug. The innkeeper cut him off and asked him to leave.

"Pour me another drink or your guts will be spilt on the floor!" Courwin shouted at him, making the innkeeper stiffen and stop cleaning the mugs behind the counter. The stranger put down his glass and half stood from the chair, ready to intervene if Courwin didn't back off.

"If you don't leave now, you'll have to go all the way to Carvahall to get a drink tomorrow." The innkeeper replied. "Would you like that?" Courwin sat back on his chair grumpily, took one last look at all the women who had refused him, then grabbed his coat and left the inn. The innkeeper shook his head as the man left, then returned to his chores as the seat in the corner was quietly vacated along with the bottle of rum, something the innkeeper didn't fail to notice and got a smile on his face.

Outside, the rain was pouring in droves, forcing Courwin to pull his coat even closer as he hurried down the road, leaving behind footprints in the mud, a clear trail to follow. The road led out of the city, heading for the forest at the base of the mountains of the Spine. After several minutes Courwin finally reached the tree cover, where he breathed a sigh of relief as the rain wasn't pouring so heavily on him anymore. He ruffled his coat a bit, droplets falling to the ground from it as he stumbled around for a moment before he found the right path and started following it in his drunken state.

 _Yes, keep going._ The stranger thought to himself, staring at drunkard tumbling ahead.

Courwin walked deeper and deeper into the forest, habit guiding his way even more than his own eyes as he walked into trees and bushes but still managed to keep walking in the right direction for several long minutes filled with muffled footsteps in the mud and sharp slap of raindrops on leaves. Panting and coughing, Courwin finally stopped, bending over and catching his breath, after which he stood and walked off the treaded path, heading for a small hut a little ahead.

 _A hut? A little small for your taste is it not?_ The stranger wondered as he watched the man go. The track was fresh and easy for the stranger to track as he reached the same place, and spotted two men with weapons drawn standing at the hut, to whom Courwin went and nodded. The thugs nodded and let him through a door which went inside the hut. The stranger sighed then and ran a hand through his wet hair as the door closed behind Courwin.

Inside the hut, Courwin stood in front of a flight of stairs made of stone that led down to the tunnels underneath the hut that spread for several yards in every direction. Taking the support of the wall, Courwin walked down the stairs and headed down the tunnel, which had several doors that led to different rooms or tunnels. The tunnels were the place where the bandits laid low and hid from authorities and enemies alike, which made the perfect refuge for them, with a poorly defended city just a little away which they could ransack any day. Several of them nodded at Courwin who just nodded back and continued to walk down the tunnel towards the room where they all sat and ate.

The stranger crouched near the hut, surveying the area and making sure that he wouldn't be in for any surprise when he attacks the guards at the hut. As he watched, the door to the hut was pushed open and several thugs came out, heading up the same path that Courwin had taken. As the sounds of their laughter died away, the stranger took a deep breath then continued his wait, knowing that it was going to take some time before he was ready and sobered down enough to attack. Breathing deeply, he observed the thugs, noticing their behavior and planning how to get past them. A half hour passed, and just as the stranger was ready to attack, the band of thugs returned and their numbers were almost double. As he watched, the stranger was filled with a little shock and a lot more anger as he realized that they had brought with them the wenches from the inn, all of whom had hoods over their heads. As the stranger watched silently, the woman were taken inside the hut and they all disappeared from view. Knowing that he going to have to hurry, the stranger got to his feet, flexing his fingers and prepared to attack the guards.

Courwin came out of the room, another mug in his hands and walked down the corridor towards his own room, dripping a trail of ale along the way. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard a scuffle come from down the corridor, the same one that led to the stairs. He walked towards them slowly, wondering what was going when suddenly the doors to the hut were thrown open and one of the guards came rolling down. He tried to get to his feet then, but a dagger flew down from up the stairs and stabbed him right in the neck.

Courwin hurriedly backed away from the stairs, the mug of ale shivering in his hand as the stranger slowly walked down the stairs. As soon as Courwin saw the man, he turned tail and ran, spilling his drink all over corridor as he ran with the mug still clutched in his hands, down the corridor, yelling at the top of his voice. He could hear the stranger running after him, but he was going to get away and let the others handle him, or so he thought. As he ran, the door to one of the rooms opened and two men came out with their swords drawn, then charged at the stranger.

Courwin reached the end of the corridor and turned to look how his fellow thugs fared. Before his eyes, one of them was struck by lightning, while another one was thrown several yards away. Neither of them moved an inch. His knees beginning to crumble, Courwin hurriedly opened the door and went in, locking it behind him, he shouted at everyone inside to get ready and that they were under attack. A second later, the door was blasted off its hinges and fell on Courwin, who was pushed to the ground as the remaining bandits drew their weapons and faced the door, all of them ready to face whoever it was that had dared attack their home. Courwin watched as the man in the black coat walked in casually, an empty bottle in his hand.

What happened next was a complete blur of lightning, fire, flying men and glass to Courwin as he watched the stranger set three people on fire, then bounce lightning off five more, throw one onto a table, which broke and collapsed with the thug among the rubble, with just one hand while his other hand held the bottle, that he smashed into a thug's head, stabbed another in the eye with its sharp end, then grabbed the last one. Not wanting to know what happened to him, Courwin hurriedly crawled out from under the door and ran towards the other door, which was thrown open when a bandit's body sailed over Courwin and hit the door. Courwin leapt over the body and ran, as some more men came to take care of the intruder, who turned to face them.

One of them wielded a spear and tried to jab at the stranger, who grabbed the wooden shaft and broke it, the splintered wood falling to the ground as he pulled the broken spear towards himself and punched the wielder in the face, knocked the other off his feet with shaft and threw it at another, the broken end piercing his shoulder as the stranger punched the other in the stomach and knocked him to the ground with a blow to the head. Turning around, he set the last one on fire with a muttered word, sending him running for several yards, until he finally succumbed to the pain of his burning flesh and fell to the ground. The stranger pulled his coat closer to himself then, looking around at the rest of the room, then noticed the door at the end of the room that was open with a dead thug lying on the ground.

Courwin kept running down the corridor, leaving the carnage of the food hall behind him, looking for a place to hide as he heard footsteps behind him as the strange man followed him. Turning right, he pushed a door open and entered, looking over his shoulder to see that he was still being chased. His heart was pounding faster and faster as he ran inside the room, which was filled with beds and people sleeping on them. "Wake up, you fools! We are being attacked!" He yelled at them as he ran across the room, to another door, which he threw open and hurried in just as the stranger entered to see six men picking their weapons up from a rack and standing ready to fight him.

 _I really don't have time for this._ The stranger thought as all of them charged at him. Ducking under an axe, he bashed one in the gut with his elbow, grabbed the hilt of the sword that was coming for him and ran it through the heart of another as he punched the wielder in the face, then jumped back as a mace grazed as his shoulder. "Boeqt Istlari!" He shouted, sending a wide plume of scarlet flames and setting four of them ablaze. The last one dropped his axe and ran for the door, but the stranger grabbed the mace from the ground and threw it at the retreating thug, bashing his head in. Taking a deep breath then as he gathered his bearings, he followed Courwin through the room then, wondering how many more men was going to have to kill. As he entered the room, the stranger stood horrified for a minute at what he saw inside. _What is this?_

The room was dimly lit and stank, but he could distinctly make out a huge cage before him, which was littered with clothes and plates of rotten food, but in one corner were gathered a bunch of people in extremely filthy and tattered clothes. He moved closer to the cage then, and the ones inside huddled even closer together. _Slaves . . . almost twenty of them._ The stranger realized, then walked to the door of the cage and opened it with a whisper. "You are free, all of you, follow the trail of dead bodies and you will find the way out." He told them as he pulled the door open, his spell had unlocked it in an instant.

He had seen his share of filthy natured men, but this was a completely inhuman way to treat people. As the stranger stepped aside to let them through, they were too scared to even say a word, but something made the stranger take another step back as he recognized a few of them, to his extreme shock. A few of them were the girls from the inn, where he had seen Courwin earlier, the ones who had refused his advances on them. The stranger had seen them bring dragged in earlier, and he was glad he had come in time to stop anything more from happening.

"T-thank you." One of them told him, and he just nodded in reply. Heading for the door that Courwin had taken, he took one last look at the freed slaves, then headed down the corridor. He had been doing this for years, taking down some very evil bastards, ruthless in their nature and willing to kill anyone who crossed them off, but he had a very particular hatred for slavers. Courwin was no different, and he was going to get what he deserved, but that was not for him to decide but for the law of the Kingdom that he resided in. With a swish of his coat, the stranger disappeared down the corridor that Courwin had taken.

Running for the stairs that would lead him up the hut, Courwin grabbed a sword that one of the dead bandits had dropped and headed up the steps, a sense of relief washing over him as he realized that it was all almost over and that he wouldn't have to die at the hands of a freak who could throw people around as if they were made of parchment. Pushing the door open, Courwin ran out into the dark forest, rain drops splashing his face as sprinted for the path that would lead him back to Therinsford.

 _Bam!_

Something threw Courwin off his feet, smashing him into a tree and knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the ground, his vision a blur of popping lights. Looking up as his vision slowly returned to normal, he couldn't see anything in the darkness, nor could he hear anyone approaching. Perhaps the attacker had not realized where he had landed so he just lay low for a moment, gaining breath and courage to get up and run. Leaves rustled with the wind, drops trickling down the wooden barks as lightning crackled high above him, illuminating the entire forest for a second. With gasps of horror, Courwin crawled away hurriedly as thunder roared, mud all over his clothes as he reached the tree and backed against.

Another flash of lightning showed the stranger standing right before him, his eyes drilling into Courwin's. The stranger grabbed the man by his collar and raised him against the tree while the heavens fought and Courwin bellowed in desperate attempts to get away. "All of that money, all those stupid brutes, and yet you managed to get past them!" He said, but the stranger punched him in the gut, then bashed Courwin's chin with his elbow and threw him to the mud. "What do you want? I can give you whatever you want!"

As the skies were set alit, Courwin saw the stranger standing over him with a glistening scarlet blade, blood dripping from its tip. "All I want is for you to be in misery, for the rest of your life." The stranger said, and kicked Courwin his sword. "I will show you how it feels to be powerless, to be defeated and humiliated, now pick the sword up and fight me."

Knowing that this was perhaps his only chance at survival Courwin grabbed the sword and jumped to his feet, only to see that the stranger had disappeared from view. "What? Where are you?" He shouted, looking around hurriedly and holding his sword up in a futile attempt to defend himself when suddenly . . .

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A voice came from the left, and he turned to look but ended up screaming in pain and stumbling away as something sliced his right thigh, slowing him down as the pang of pain made him lean against a tree to stay upright. "You think you can defeat me?" Something grabbed him from the right, and before he could swing, he was flung against another tree, breaking a rib as he fell to the ground for the second. Groaning and crying in pain, he forced himself to his feet, the sword still in his hand. "You think you can get away?" His sword was knocked out of his hand by a red blur, sending it flying into the darkness while he got another cut on his left thigh, making him fall to his knees. Looking up, he saw the stranger for an instant before he was punched in the face and thrown to the ground. "You can't escape." The stranger kicked his leg, making him scream in pain. "You can't fight." He bashed Courwin's nose in with the glistening hilt of red sword, breaking it and making it bleed. "You are done, Courwin," were the last words he heard as another blow knocked him out cold.

The stranger stood in the middle of the forest, sheathing his sword and hiding it behind his coat. Sighing, he took a look around the forest and noticed the slaves he had freed running towards Therinsford. _Very well, looks like we are all clear._ He thought, and looked up at the sky. _How did I do?_

 _Could've been a bit better, you weren't as terrifying._ A voice replied in his mind.

 _Look at him, does he look like he wasn't terrified out of his mind?_ He said, as Courwin lay there motionless.

' _Want you to be in misery for the rest of your life'? What are you, a bard?_ Came the answer in his thoughts as the wind slowly picked up around him and thunder rumbled without lightning.

 _How else do I entertain myself, chasing idiots across their lairs and killing their men? It gets old._ The stranger took several steps closer to the tree, where he waited for a moment as the thunder grew louder with every passing heartbeat, and as it stopped the ground trembled when a huge force fell on it. Everything was silent then as the clouds parted for a moment, the moonlight revealing glistening blood red scales of a dragon that stood before the stranger, smoke streaming out from his nostrils.

 _What now?_ The stranger asked the dragon, who just moved his head as if to shrug. _It wouldn't kill you to do some work, Thorn!_

 _I was flying around up there, in the clouds, while you were down here killing not-so-good-thieving-two-legs-_

 _Men, just call them-_

 _The way I see it, you got the better end of the-_

 _Just admit that you're lazy!_

 _Shut it, Murtagh!_ Thorn shouted and growled menacingly at Murtagh, who just held his hands to the side at the ready.

 _What're you gonna do, eat me? Like you haven't had enough of human limbs for morsel!_ Murtagh said in disgust as Thorn thrashed around his tail in protest.

 _That happened once!_ Thorn said as Murtagh hoisted Courwin up on his shoulders and placed him on the soaking wet saddle and strapped his hands and legs to the seat so that he wouldn't do anything. _And I didn't eat him, I bit his head off!_

 _Not an excuse._ Murtagh replied as he climbed into the saddle. _Let's get as close to the city as possible._

 _What are you going to use the bounty money for this time?_ Thorn asked him. _More bottles of rum to drift you to sleep?_

 _No, my friend._ Murtagh answered. _More bottles of rum, ale or whatever else is expensive to drift us both off to sleep._

 _Sounds good._

◊ The Next Morning ◊

The inn was empty in the wee hours of morning as the sun slowly rose above the mountains, illuminating the city of Therinsford. Murtagh sat at the bar quietly, while the innkeeper wiped the wooden bar with a rug, watching the man before him. "I heard some of those girls that returned say that a strange man saved them." The bartended eyed Murtagh matter-of-factly. "Why not just tell them? Why not acknowledge yourself as this protector everyone is calling you?"

"I am no protector, Arnaud." Murtagh laughed lightly. "More of a selfish mercenary."

"With a dragon." Arnaud added. "I am sure that makes a bit of a difference, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does." Murtagh nodded. "Can you take Courwin to the guard and collect the reward?"

"Too many more of that and they'll start thinking I am the great hero that protects them." Arnaud said.

"No, you are just a very lucky innkeeper who finds a lot of unconscious criminals." Murtagh replied as Arnaud finished cleaning the bar then placed two cups on it, filling it with rum and passing a cup to Murtagh. "What about the others?"

"They all went to their own homes, glad to be with their families again." Arnaud said as he sipped from his cup. "Though nobody wants to come back to work for me." Murtagh took a gulp and placed the cup down as Arnaud continued. "How many did you have to kill this time?"

"A lot." Murtagh said, rubbing his eyes as he drank more of the rum. "None of them were upstanding citizens, mind you."

"Where?" Arnaud asked him, which made Murtagh look at him sharply.

"Why do you want to know that?" Murtagh asked back.

"Murtagh, those men deserve burials and rites, we can't just leave them to rot there." Arnaud said, while Murtagh just chortled and shook his head. "What? You think they don't deserve it?"

"They were forcing people into slavery, some of whom you knew or even worked here." Murtagh told him as he placed the empty cup down. "Ask any of those people if those dead scoundrels deserve rites, you'll see that I'm right and that they don't."

Arnaud stared at Murtagh for a moment, then sighed loudly and placed his cup down as well. "Been a long night for the both of us, time we get some rest." Arnaud said slowly as Murtagh got up. "Maybe you're right though."

"About not wanting to bury those men?" Murtagh said matter-of-factly.

"Oh no, you are a bastard for that." Arnaud said, which made Murtagh raise his eyebrows. "But maybe you aren't a hero after all, Rider, just another man earning fair wage by driving his sword through whoever gets in between him and his prize." Murtagh didn't reply for a moment, but before he could Arnaud placed both empty cups inside and continued talking. "Ten years, we have been doing this and at first it didn't bother me because I knew what you had been through but don't you think it's about time you realize that it was years ago and you need to move on with your life?"

"Move on to what?" Murtagh said as he grabbed his black coat and pulled it on. "I have nothing else to do."

"You are a dragon Rider, go to Morningstar, with Thorn." Arnaud told him, which made Murtagh chortle with amusement.

"I doubt Eragon wants me coming to the great city of Morningstar in the east." Murtagh said as fastened Zar'roc on his belt. "I am sure he has enough on his plate."

"I won't pretend to understand this world of magic and lands so far to the east they don't come on the map, but to a common man, you belong at that city with the rest of your kind." Arnaud told him as he stepped out from behind the bar, pulling off his brown overalls, his white shirt filthy underneath it.

"They are not my kind . . . our kind, mine and Thorn's." Murtagh said finally. "They are different from us, and if I do go there I will be seen as an outcast."

"How can the brother of the Lead Rider be an outcast?" Arnaud asked him.

"I am not going." Murtagh told him. "I am staying here where I can do something to help people, because nobody else seems to be doing it."

"Very well." Arnaud said, walking towards the door with Murtagh. "It's not going to last forever, this charade of pretending to be a bounty hunter, one day somebody will realize who you really are and they will inform whoever would like to know."

"And that's the day we finally say goodbye, my friend." Murtagh replied as he stepped outside the inn and Arnaud locked the door behind them. "I am sure there a lot of places where bounty hunters are well paid, I'll just head there."

"We'll see when it happens." Arnaud said as he placed the keys in a pocket and headed down the road. "Sometimes I wonder why I let you in at all." He gestured at the inn. "All those years ago, I should have assumed you were a vagrant and let you move on."

"Come now, Arnaud, things wouldn't be so interesting if you hadn't, would they?" Murtagh laughed as he headed in a different direction. Arnaud laughed as well and waved as they parted ways to go back to their families.

◊ Ten Years Ago ◊

 _This is beautiful._ Thorn said as he landed on top of a sandstone hill, where a diamond tomb glistened beautifully in the bright moonlight. Inside it, Murtagh stared at an old man who looked like he had just drifted off to sleep moments ago. Murtagh had not known the man long, but he had saved his and his son's life once. His son, Eragon, who would turn out to be Murtagh's half-brother and the greatest hero that Alagaesia had ever seen in a very long time. Their fates, his and Eragon's, had been entangled here. It was where it had all begun for him, a continuous spiral of downward events that would ultimately lead him to meet Thorn.

 _He looks just like he did when we buried him._ Murtagh said, and felt the presence of enchantments which he didn't remember Eragon casting. _He came here, before going back to Ilirea._

 _He wanted to say goodbye, didn't he?_ Thorn asked him, to which Murtagh nodded as he stared at the old man. _What was he like?_

 _A good man._ Murtagh said, his thoughts that of complete loss. _He trained Eragon well._

 _Why are we here?_ Thorn asked him, staring at the tomb as well.

Murtagh closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed deeply. _If not for a hand of fate, perhaps I would have ended up his son and Eragon Morzan's . . . wonder how different things would be then._ He stared at the head of the tomb then, where the spire showed runes written on it.

 _Come on, Murtagh, we wouldn't be together if that would've happened._ Thorn said, nudging Murtagh with his snout. _I might have ended up with a different Rider._

 _In the whole scenario of things, wouldn't that have been for the better?_ Murtagh snapped at him, making Thorn's eyes widen in surprise. _Look at how we ended up being bonded, look at what we had to go through. Would you wish that on anyone?_

Thorn just dipped his head and turned away, disgruntled at what his Rider had said. Murtagh placed a hand on his forehead then, running it through his hair as he watched the red dragon crawl away dejectedly and skulk at the edge of the hilltop. Sometimes he forgot how young Thorn really was because of his size, which was a lot larger than it was supposed to be, thanks to what the mad king had done to him. It wasn't fair to him, neither was Murtagh telling him that they would have been better off without each other, but he couldn't think of anything to say to the dragon just yet, so he returned to look at the tomb. Etched in the spire at the head of the tomb were the words:

 _HERE LIES BROM_

 _Who was_

 _A Rider bonded to the dragon Saphira_

 _Son of Holcomb and Nelda_

 _Beloved of Selena._

Murtagh stopped then, running a finger over the rune that spelt his mother's name. He wondered what it would've been like if he and Eragon had been brothers in full, if he wouldn't have been the son of Morzan. Would he have had a life with Eragon and Roran? Would he have lived a simple life on a farm? Would he have ever become a dragon Rider? He didn't know the answers to those questions, but he sorely wished he did because the way he saw it, out of all the possibilities that had been laid out before him, fate had chosen the worst one. The next lines of the rune caught his eye then:

 _Father of Eragon Shadeslayer_

 _Founder of the Varden_

 _And Bane of the Forsworn._

 _May his name live on in glory._

 _Stydja unin mor'ranr._

"Bane of the Forsworn . . ." Murtagh muttered under his breath. "Father of Eragon Shadeslayer." The man had killed Murtagh's father at a point of time, something Murtagh was grateful for, but he didn't dwell on it too long as he noticed his dragon making noises in the background. He wondered what Thorn was upto, and suddenly realized that the dragon was quietly crying in the corner. _Thorn?_

 _Leave me alone._ The dragon told him, Murtagh could see his entire body shivering as he tried to muffle his keening by hiding his head under his wing. _That's what you want anyway, to leave me and go your own way._

Murtagh didn't say anything in reply, knowing that the infant dragon was too stubborn to listen to anything he said, so he just walked over to him and placed a hand on his snout as the dragon whimpered for a moment then shrugged his hand away. Murtagh let him, then just stood in front of the young dragon, waiting for him to stop crying. Thorn took quite a long while to stop, but when he did, Murtagh just walked closer to him and hugged his long neck, letting him know that his Rider wasn't going anywhere. _I didn't mean it like that. I will never leave you, Thorn._

 _It's not our fault._ Thorn replied as Murtagh let go of him. _We didn't ask to be the king's pets, we didn't ask to be pitted against Eragon and blue-large-scary-Saphira._

 _I know._ Murtagh said, knowing that he was going to have to be smart enough for the both of them for now. _But it's what we have got and no amount of wishful thinking from my side is going to change that._

 _So where do we go now?_ Thorn asked him, his voice regaining a glimmer of the excitement it had had earlier. Murtagh stood next to his dragon for a moment, then walked over to Brom's tomb again, placing a hand on it. "You are not my father, but my mother loved you and I will always aspire to be a good man so that I can be deserving of her love as well . . . Goodbye." Murtagh bowed his head, paying respects to the great man. Heading over to Thorn, he climbed onto his dragon's back and strapped himself into the saddle. _We can go wherever we want, can't we?_

 _Yes we can, but let's be smart about it shall we?_ Murtagh told him. _Let's head north, for Yazuac. It's a small town were not many will trouble us. After that . . . let's leave it for afterwards._


End file.
